


Charlie Becomes a Millionaire

by notacute



Category: It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-20
Updated: 2010-12-20
Packaged: 2017-10-13 22:17:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/142305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notacute/pseuds/notacute
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Charlie unexpectedly comes into money, the rest of the gang begins to feel left behind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Charlie Becomes a Millionaire

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bogged](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bogged/gifts).



**1:05 pm**

 **On a Thursday.**

As with any Thursday afternoon, Paddy’s Irish Pub, on a shitty corner in the crappy part of Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, was almost completely empty. A few shady-looking patrons sat in lonely booths or by themselves at tables, nursing their afternoon beers. And this shady bar, with its near empty booths and patrons who looked as if they were more likely to stab someone than share a drink was home to equally shady proprietors.

“Does olive juice help hangovers?”

Behind the bar, Dee Reynolds was cutting up limes, but stopped momentarily to shoot a disgusted look at Charlie, who was eyeing a small, mostly-empty jar of olives with a curious expression on his face. His head was killing him and even the dim light of the bar made his eyes hurt. He’d slept in the office at the bar, though he couldn’t remember how he’d gotten there or what had happened to his shoes.

“What the hell kind of question is that? How am I supposed to know?” She replied.

“Well, I guess we’re gonna have to hope it does, because I’m drinkin’ it,” He said, and downed the jar in just a few gulps.

“That’s disgusting.”

“It’s either this, or puke all over the bathroom, Dee, and I’ll be too sick to clean it up.” He belched loudly, and then winced when it made his head hurt.

Just then, the back door flew open and Dennis and Mac entered, Dennis tossing a bundle of papers onto the bar before he started taking off his coat. Even though it was still chilly in the bar, Mac removed his own to reveal cut-off sleeves, perfect for showing off his arms, even in winter.

“Too sick to clean what up?” Dennis asked, tossing a bundle of mail onto the counter.

“Charlie says he’s gonna puke all over the bathroom,” Dee repeated, annoyed with the very idea of it.

“Goddamn it, Charlie,” Dennis said, “We told you not to drink that whole bottle of absinthe last night. We TOLD you.”

“Yeah, but you didn’t not NOT tell me.”

“That doesn’t even make any sense.”

“Or DOES it?”

“No. No, it doesn’t!” Dennis said, and walked behind the bar to grab a mid-afternoon beer, “And you’d better not puke all over the goddamn bathroom, Charlie, because I don’t want to have to make Dee clean it up.”

“Hey! Wait a minute! I’m not cleaning it up!” Dee protested.

“Yeah. Yeah, you are. When Charlie’s incapacitated, you’re the substitute Charlie, so you’d better familiarize yourself with where Charlie keeps the pink puke powder shit and get ready to set some rat traps.”

But before Dee could continue to protest, Mac, who had been looking through the pile of mail on the bar for his subscription to “Muscle and Fitness”, chimed in.

“Hey, Charlie, you’ve got mail.” He held up a large manila envelope, which Charlie immediately took out of his hands and began to open.

“No shit, really?” He said, surprised.

“Who the hell would write you?” Dennis said, taking a sip of his beer, though he couldn’t help but be intrigued. It wasn’t like he had anything else going on that day.

Charlie pulled a stack of papers out of the envelope and inspected them for a long moment. Slowly, his brow furrowed in confusion as he tried to figure it all out, the rest of the gang looking on in silent anticipation.

Then, he looked up at them all.

“You don’t know what it says, do you?” Dennis asked.

“Charlie, you really need to learn how to read one of these days,” Mac said, snatching the stack of papers out of Charlie’s hands.

“Holy shit,” Mac said, “Remember that lawyer guy? The one who screwed us out of our merchandising rights and was kind of an asshole even though we offered to buy him strippers?”

“Yeah?”

“He’s dead. Charlie, you’ve got the rights to Kitten Mittens back.” He paused, then turning the paper towards the rest of the gang so that they could see for themselves. “This says you’re a millionaire.”

“Holy shit.”

 

  
**“Charlie Becomes a Millionaire”**   


“This is bullshit.” Frank said, throwing the day’s newspaper down onto the table where he sat. On the front page was Charlie’s picture, under the words LOCAL HANDICAPPED MAN BECOMES MILLIONAIRE. Frank was pissed. “How the hell does this shit happen to HIM?”

“I don’t know, Frank. I don’t know,” Mac said, pacing the bar for what seemed like the hundredth time that day. Of course, this was bullshit. It was BEYOND bullshit. Charlie, who they’d taken under their wing and kept part of the gang, was a millionaire, and hadn’t spoken to any of them since he’d gotten the letter in the mail.

“That son of a bitch gets ten million dollars and doesn’t even think to break off a piece for his best friends? This is bullshit!” Dennis fumed, “How the hell did Kitten Mittens get so goddamn popular anyway? Who wants mittens for cats?”

“I don’t know, Dennis! I don’t know!” Mac replied, apparently unable to say anything else. “It just makes me want to smash some bottles or something, and I don’t even do that! I don’t even do that, Dennis! That’s a Charlie thing!”

“I say we break into his new place and bash him over the head for being such a dick,” Dennis suggested, “It’s what he deserves, right? For keeping all of that money to himself?”

“I don’t know, Dennis, I just feel like smashing something!”

Just then, Dee walked in, dressed in a tight black dress, her makeup slightly overdone, teetering on six-inch heels.

“What’s up, boners?” She said, immediately walking behind the bar to pour up a shot of tequila. She downed it immediately.

“You could smash Dee,” Dennis offered, with a small shrug.

“What the hell are you so dressed up for?” Frank asked.

“Yeah, you look like an ostrich prostitute.”

“Nice.”

Dennis and Mac high-fived.

“Yeah, well both of you can just go to hell,” Dee responded bitterly, pouring a second shot and downing it equally as fast. “I’m just stopping by, anyway; I’m heading over to Charlie’s new place.”

“Maybe you should,” Mac said, “I bet he’d get a kick out of seeing you looking like a goddamn ostrich too. And maybe he might remember his real friends. You know, the ones he left behind when he became a millionaire and shit?”

“I really don’t think you should talk about Charlie that way,” Dee said, and then sucked on a slice of lime.

Mac, Dennis and Frank all stared, somewhat taken aback.

“Since when do you give a shit about Charlie?” Frank asked. HE didn’t even give a shit about Charlie most of the time, and the two of them shared a bed, a hot plate, and the occasional jerk-off sock.

“Yeah, the only time you care about Charlie is when you might have to do all the Charlie work because he can’t,” Dennis chimed in.

“I don’t know, ever since he’s become a millionaire, he’s… I don’t know, he’s kind of hot. And did you read that article in the paper about how he gave all of that money to the animal shelters?”

“You don’t give a shit about animals either!”

“You know what? You can just shut the hell up, because you don’t know anything about me,” Dee said, grabbing her bag, which she’d thrown onto the bar when she walked in, “You douchebags can just stay here in the bar and drink you shitty drinks and read the newspaper on a Saturday night. I’ll be at Charlie’s.”

She stormed out.

For a long moment, none of them spoke. Across the room, one of the few customers in the bar put a quarter into the jukebox and Paddy’s was filled with the smooth sounds of Kool and the Gang. Finally, Mac broke the now funky, yet awkward moment between all of them.

“You know she’s just after Charlie’s money,” he said, “She just thinks he’s attractive because he’s got a shit ton of money.”

“Fuck it.” Frank decided, and hopped off of his barstool, heading towards the door. “If Dee’s getting money, I’m getting in on this action. I slept with Charlie for YEARS.”

“I really wish you wouldn’t put it that way, Frank,” Dennis said, and pinched the bridge of his nose.  
“Screw you guys, I’m going to get my share.”

And with that, Frank was gone.

Dennis and Frank looked at each other for a long moment.

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Dennis asked, and Mac merely nodded.

“Last call!”  


* * *

In the time since Charlie had become a millionaire, his life had changed significantly. He’d moved out of his crappy apartment with Frank, had left his job cleaning up puke and shit at Paddy’s and was living in a penthouse suite in a snazzy building downtown. He’d had milksteak and jellybeans for dinner every night since he moved, and he hadn’t had to worry about eating cat food and huffing glue before bed every night to make sure he could sleep.

Okay, so maybe he’d still huffed a little glue, but the bottom line was, he didn’t have to worry about all the cats keeping him up at night. If they HAD been there, he might have paid someone to put Kitten Mittens on them, but it hadn’t even been necessary.

To be completely honest, Charlie was miserable. He’d thought that this would all be awesome: he’d find a new place to live, and then he’d go back and maybe give money some to Dennis and Mac. They were his best friends, after all. They were the two musketeers to his other musketeer. Without them, there WAS no nougatey candy bar of friendship.

But no, there’d been this bitch of a PR lady who said it wasn’t good for his image if he hung out with his friends, and to top it all off, she’d made him give a million dollars to some bullshit charity. Charlie didn’t care about animal shelters; animals were smart enough to survive on their own. They didn’t even need shelters.

Dressed in only a top hat and underwear—because there was no reason to not be fancy when he was just lounging around his fancy penthouse suite—Charlie had been trying to decide if he wanted to sneak past the security guys downstairs and go to Paddy’s anyway.

That was when there was a knock on the door.

“I’m asleep! You can go away now!” Charlie called, not really wanting to deal with anyone.

“Charlie, it’s me!”

“Dee?”

He walked across the suite and opened the door. Dee immediately grabbed Charlie by the back of the neck and kissed him right on the lips.

Stunned, Charlie pushed her away and she fell backwards, landing in the doorway.

“Charlie! What the hell?!”

“What are you doing? What was that? And why do you look like an ostrich prostitute?!”

“I don’t know, I thought maybe… I know you’re always kind of had a thing for me…”

“I’ve never had a thing for you, Dee.”

“You did that one time! Remember?” Dee argued, standing and straightening her dress.

“Um… no. No, I didn’t. You look like a goddamn bird, Dee. Why would I want to have sex with a bird?”

“Don’t fight it, Charlie, just go with it,” she said, kissed him again, then immediately pulling back.

“Is that cat food? Why does your breath taste like cat food?”

“I can afford the good stuff now,” Charlie explained. Back when he lived with Frank, they’d bought the cheap stuff, but now he’d been able to upgrade to Fancy Feast.

“But why are you still eating cat—never mind. Just never mind.”

“Why wouldn’t I eat cat food?”

Before Dee could list one of about a hundred reasons why Charlie shouldn’t have to eat cat food, the door burst open, and Dennis, Mac and Frank burst in.

“I knew it! Goddamn it, Dee, I knew you were going to try to seduce Charlie for his money!” Mac said. He was holding a bat, and it appeared that his mood to smash things hadn’t gone anywhere.

“If she gets money, I get money!” Frank argued, “And I’m not gonna fuck you to get it either.”

“Yeah, I’m not doing that again,” Dennis chimed in, and the room went silent.

“When... when did you and…” Mac asked, bat dropping slowly to his side, a look of pure horror on his face.

“It’s a long story. It was dark, I was drunk… Charlie had just started moisturizing…” Dennis trailed off, the memory not a pleasant one AT ALL for him. “It doesn’t matter. But we’re entitled to some of that money, Charlie!”

“You guys really think I’d give Dee any of my money?” Charlie asked.

“Well, yeah. Maybe,” Mac said, “I mean, you sure as well haven’t been talking to us the past few weeks, like you’re too good for us or something, now that you’re rich.”

“Dude. I totally wanted to come and see you guys first thing, but there was this PR lady, and she said some bullshit about you guys being bad for my image or whatever…”

“Your image?” Frank asked, astounded, “We’d be great for your image! What the hell is that lady’s problem?”

“I don’t know! I don’t know!” Charlie said, “I was about to just say screw it and come down to Paddy’s anyway. I mean, what good is having all this money if I can’t share it with my friends.”

“I don’t know, it’s a lot of money,” Dee said, and the others nodded in agreement.

“You know what? First thing in the morning, that bitch is fired.” Charlie decided, “She’s fired and you guys all get your share. I mean, I wouldn’t have come up with Kitten Mittens in the first place if you guys had let me live with you instead of in that crappy apartment.”

“See? We had your best interests at heart, man,” Mac said, and clapped Charlie on the shoulder. Charlie beamed.

“So how much do we have to work with, buddy?” Dennis asked.

“I don’t know, I guess I’ve got to figure out how much I have left.”

“How much have you spent?” Dee asked.

“Well, there was that million dollars I gave to the charity, then three million for living here the past few weeks… then there was that stripper I tipped the other night, and the Kitten Mittens recall…”

“Wait a second,” Mac said, “What recall?”

“I don’t know, they were foreign made or something, and now there’s some kind of lawsuit about the fabric giving cats feline AIDS or something,” Charlie said, “I wasn’t really paying attention. So right now, I’ve only got a couple hundred dollars, but things are looking up. Besides, it doesn’t matter now, because you guys are all with me, right?”

“Yeahhhh…about that…” Dennis said, an awkward look on his face.

“Yeah, we’re here for you when it comes to all the other stuff,” Mac elaborated.

Dee, Frank and Dennis nodded in agreement.

“What Mac said,” Dennis said, “We’re totally with you when it comes to all that emotional shit and helping you spend your money or whatever, but…”

“Sorry, dude.” Mac said.

“But hey, you can still have your old job back,” Dennis said, “Dee, you’re off of Charlie-work.”

Charlie frowned.

“Well, that was pretty anticlimactic.” He decided.

“It was. It really was,” Dennis agreed.

They all contemplated the fact for a long moment.

“So… strip club?’

“Strip club.”


End file.
